


The Crown's Service

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotherhood, Complicated Relationships, Duty, Emotionally Repressed, First Kiss, Gen, Identity Issues, M/M, Mood Swings, POV Ignis Scientia, Platonic Relationships, Power Dynamics, Protective Older Brothers, Resentment, Self-Esteem Issues, Service, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Heavy is the hand that polishes the crown.Ignis Scientia has been in the service of Prince Noctis since he was only six years old himself: he is to guide the prince, advise him, and help to mould him into the king he will one day be. The work is never easy.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 18
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

Noctis was… difficult.

This was nothing new. It had been a fact of life since Ignis had first known him, and it would no doubt be a fact of life even when Noctis was safely settled upon his throne, but this week, it seemed to be an insurmountable issue, and he could not look past it.

He was on Gladiolus’ balcony instead of his own, because when he sat upon his own balcony like this, he was full view of the streets: due to blocking from one of the palace spires, and due to the fact that Gladio’s apartment was only a few floors above one of the grand, royal balconies, it was impossible for anyone to see anything on Gladio’s balcony unless they were of a level with the palace, and mercifully, there were no buildings directly across from Gladio’s.

He rather hated living in the palace at times.

It was a nonsense thought, of course – where else would he reside? – but he so hated when he saw people in nearby offices looking through their windows toward the palace, or noticed passers-by peering up at him on his balcony.

It made him feel so very… observed.

His purpose was not to be observed: he was an invisible hand, guiding the prince’s own, an advisor. He so hated to be looked at.

It was a rainy summer’s night, and Ignis was wasting time, which was not in his nature. This, too, was against his purpose.

Sitting on Gladio’s balcony wall, his legs hanging down, his ankles neatly crossed, one over the other, he sipped at his mug of Ebony. When it was finished, he would force himself to return to his duties – he still had myriad reports to read through, not to mention his ethics essay, and he really must clean his daggers before his training session tomorrow, and he hadn’t yet found the time to practice the concerto piece for next month’s recital—

“Six, Iggy,” Gladio said, the door closing behind him. “Your shoulders are so tight I could crack walnuts between them.”

“Please do,” Ignis murmured disconsolately. “I might be good for something that way.”

“I heard about his tantrum,” Gladio said, and Ignis heard the sound of his gear hitting the floor as he dropped it down, felt the air shift behind him as he stepped out onto the balcony. He never questioned it when Ignis showed up in his rooms instead of his own – likewise, Ignis never questioned the same. Ignis heard the cafetière bubble cheerfully as he poured himself some coffee – Ignis had, of course, set out two mugs, for he tried to be his best to be a polite intruder, and then Gladio came to stand beside him.

“It isn’t a tantrum,” Ignis said lowly. “A tantrum is the understandable reaction of a child when faced with the overwhelming – new rules, discipline, his own emotions. He is _not_ a child any longer – he is _fifteen_. He ought…” Ignis inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, and he looked at Gladio as he leaned his great forearms on the balcony wall, at his serious expression. “The way he speaks to me, at times, makes my blood boil. I love his highness very dearly, but sometimes I could strike him.”

“You should,” Gladio said. “Might knock some sense into his head.”

“Gladio.”

“I know, I know,” Gladio said, clucking his tongue and waving one hand. “I can hit him harder.”

“ _No_ ,” Ignis said sharply, but Gladio gave him a sly smile, and although it wasn’t quite enough to prompt a smile from Ignis himself, he did feel some small part of the tension gathered in him fade away.

“I wish—” Ignis began, and then realised he sounded like a child, and pressed his lips together. “I find it difficult,” he adjusted himself, “when his majesty rather works his son into a lather, and then sends me with further instructions. It’s like a match to fuel every time, and it is always _me_ that bears the prince’s ire, no matter that I had no more cause in its making than he did.”

“What’s he so pissed off about?”

“Oh,” Ignis said, putting his face in his hand. “Something about… His high school has some sort of— some sort of _play_ , which he isn’t in, isn’t involved with by any means, and he wants to go. The procession in Lestallum is to be on the same weekend, and he wants to leave for the city on Friday night, after the production is finished.”

“What, while the daemons are out?” Gladio asked.

“ _Precisely_. He even suggested the rest of the retinue go without him, and that we might follow behind. He volunteered my name to his father, of course, and suggested others of the retinue. It would be one thing were he so keen to risk his own life – it would infuriate me, but I might— I might respect it. But so callously volunteering the lives of others to go to such ridiculous, unnecessary risk, all so he can see his schoolfriends butcher a performance of _Hamlet_? It beggars belief.” He had a headache. It was as a result of clenching his jaw so much, he knew, but he couldn’t relax it as much as he wished to. He was ordinarily so much more patient with Noctis’ flights of fancy – he normally didn’t have quite so much on his plate.

“Gods,” Gladio muttered. He had even less patience with Noctis, of course – the two of them often butted heads, and Gladio was generally the first to complain as to Noctis’ behaviour when it was found wanting, often to Noctis himself. Ignis hated to complain, hated to be made to resent his station, but at times like this… “So, what, the king talked this through with him…?”

“Then sent me, unwitting, with the travel schedule and some wardrobe options for the procession,” Ignis muttered. “There was not so much as an hour between one argument and the next – but the king’s, of course, did not come with what mine did: I’ve been picking fragments of glass out of my clothes since. He could really have _hurt_ me, Gladio, or have hurt himself – it was all I could think of even as I rushed to look him over, to make sure none of the glass had cut him. I felt mad, tending to him, as though I were watching myself from the outside.”

He had looked so _shocked_. All that training with Gladio, and so much work with his magic, too, and yet the prince, having thrown a vase into one of the stained glass windows in the walkway over the courtyard, had seemed so _surprised_ at his own strength, hadn’t even shielded his own eyes – Ignis had done that.

Hands steady, resolve shaking, he had checked the prince over for damage even as the alarm had sounded, and a guard had rushed in to see what the matter was – when, of course, it had reoccurred to Noctis that he was furious with the world for not letting him have his way, and he had shoved Ignis’ hands from him and stalked away.

He had been told of his just-previous argument with the king some minutes after.

“He can be so… kind,” Ignis whispered, looking into empty bowl of his coffee mug and feeling his heart pang at the thought of trying to put himself back to his work. “But this temper ill-befits a king, and his— his _constant_ , selfish disregard for anyone other than himself, I… I am at a loss.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gladio said.

“I don’t believe I said it was.”

“Like I can’t hear you thinking it.”

Ignis exhaled through his nose as he swung his legs back over the balcony, dropping onto the ground beside Gladio. He was looking down at Ignis seriously, and he reached out, tightly squeezing Ignis’ shoulder – the pressure was nice.

“You put any time in that busy schedule of yours to relax?” Gladio asked softly, raising his eyebrows.

“You just saw my relaxation.”

“Drinking coffee and hiding on my balcony isn’t relaxing,” Gladio said. “I’m gonna go for a drive this week with Iris, take a hike. You should come with, pick some mushrooms.”

“I don’t have _time_ ,” Ignis said, heard the crack in his voice, and saw the crumple, too, in Gladio’s face. “I’m sorry, Gladio, I—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Gladio said softly. “We’ll work something out. This is the job we got, Scientia. Not like we got another option here.”

“I know,” Ignis murmured, ashamed for wavering, and Gladio patted his cheek. As he turned to go, Gladio caught him, and put his mug back into his hand, pouring the last of the coffee into it.

“Gladio—”

“You don’t even have to gimme the mug back,” Gladio said, shrugging his big shoulders. “I’ll pick it up off your dishrack later in the week if you just wash it up. You sure you don’t want company? I just got some training reports to finish up – I can bring my laptop, work as easy on your couch as I could on mine.”

“I would be an ill companion,” Ignis murmured. “I’m going to put my headphones in and try to get as much done as possible. You do have my gratitude, though – and my affection, of course.”

Laughing, Gladio pushed two fingers against Ignis’ forehead and shoved him back, and Ignis laughed himself – this was what Gladio did instead of ruffling Ignis’ hair, a practice to which Ignis only ever furiously objected to. “Six, you got a weird way of saying I’m a good buddy of yours, Iggy. Or should I say _mate_?”

“And with that,” Ignis said, turning on his heel and cupping his coffee in his hands, “I take my leave.”

When his phone buzzed in his pocket on the walk back to his apartment, which was on the other side of the palace, made longer by the fact that the bridge over the centre of the courtyard was closed until they replaced the window, he winced. Glancing at the screen, he felt a mixture of relief that the matter wasn’t urgent, and sinking disappointment when he saw the number of pages on the document he needed to read – 279. He prayed the bulk of it was in an extensive bibliography.

When he came to the door of his apartment, he stopped short, feeling his lips part.

His royal highness was leaning against Ignis’ door, one arm hugged over his chest, squeezing his own arm. Dressed as he was in his jeans and a _King’s Knight_ t-shirt, he looked very small, and younger than he was.

“Uh, hey,” he said quietly. For his elocution lessons, he was always so reluctant to project. “Do you mind if I, um— could we talk?”

“Of course, your highness,” Ignis said crisply, taking a step forward, and Noctis leaned back to let him open the door. At the gesture of Ignis’ hand, he went inside before Ignis himself, and as Ignis set his things aside and hung up his jacket, Noctis lingered, his thumbs shoved into his pockets, his arms tight against his sides.

“I wanted to apologise,” he said, more to the floor than to Ignis himself. “I shouldn’t have— I didn’t mean to lose it like that at you. I’m just… I’m so _angry_ all the time, and I can’t…” Noctis was silent, watching Ignis remove his gloves. “It was unfair, and it was— I could have hurt you, and I’m really sorry, Ignis, I never wanted to do that.”

Ignis gave an inclination of his head. “Thank you,” he said, and then he moved past the prince, swiping his mouse around its mat and trying not to wince at the sudden, bright flare to life of his monitors, before they noticed what time it was and turned down their light a little bit.

“You still seem pretty pissed at me,” Noctis said.

“Astutely observed,” Ignis agreed, taking his seat and glancing at the list of priorities he’d written earlier. “Have a good evening, your highness.”

“Ignis—”

“I do not have _time_ ,” Ignis said, turning in his chair, “to labour over your hurt feeling – particularly when your _hurt feeling_ is as a result of my own justifiable anger with you. Do you have any idea how much work I do in service of the Crown, on top of my own schoolwork, how much work any of us do? It is all for the benefit of your people – for _your_ benefit.”

Noctis stared at him, his lips loosely pressed together, his eyes dead and devoid of light. “Right,” he muttered, turning away. “Sorry again, I guess.”

At once, Ignis felt alight with desperate fury, and pained – he hated to see Noctis look so upset with him, _ached_ for him to look so utterly despondent. Not for the first time, he wondered if Noctis would actually see him as a friend, were he not his appointed advisor, was not so much of his life dedicated to keeping the prince cared for and in check.

Ignis was no parent, was scarce two years his charge’s senior, and yet, how his resentment cut like a sharpened blade.

Noctis didn’t slam the door as he left: he drew it closed with a very quiet click, and Ignis turned back to his monitors, put his head in his hands, and tried to ignore the tears threatening at the corners of his eyes.

* * *

On the drive to Lestallum, Noctis watched the livestream of his school’s _Hamlet_ performance. When Ignis had suggested he put it up on the limousine’s main screen, that he needn’t wear his headphones, he had received such a frosty glare he’d almost suspected Elemancy,

Gladio opened his mouth to say something, but Ignis shook his head, gesturing with his hand, and as Gladio irritably looked back to his book, Ignis continued his work on his laptop, his glasses hung for the moment on the inside of his collar – it always made his eyes ache when he tried to read while travelling, and his glasses only made it worse.

They rode in silence for several hours, and when Noctis’ phone rang, Noctis actually smiled.

It was a small smile, but one that Ignis had not seen in months, even before their argument this week, and Noctis brought it up to his ear.

“Hey,” he said. “Yeah, yeah, I saw it, I watched the livestream.” He pulled his laptop closed, looking out of the tinted windows with the smile still lingering on his face as he listened to whoever was speaking on the other end of the line – someone who spoke very quickly, and had a rather high voice. A girl? “Yeah, I’m sorry I missed it, I really wanted to be there. Next time, right? Ha. Yeah, I guess. Really? Did he get hurt? Well, that’s good, at least. Uh, the weekend – I’ll be back in school Monday. Yeah, sure, if the wi-fi’s good in the hotel – I’ll text you when we get there.” Noctis’ smile slowly fell away from his lips, and he said, more quietly, “Yeah, okay. Have fun. Bye.”

“Who was that?” Gladio asked.

“My friend,” Noctis muttered.

“He in the play?”

“No, he did the tech stuff.”

“You wanted to go see the play so that you could… what, admire the lights?” Gladio asked, raising his eyebrows, and Noctis rolled his eyes, demonstratively putting his headphones back in. When he put his music on his phone, it started so loudly that Ignis could hear it, and he reached out to turn it down for the sake of Noctis’ ears.

“Fuck’s _sake_ ,” the prince snapped, snatching his phone back, and, shoving his phone screen into Ignis’ face, the bright light a harsh irritation, he showed that he was lowering the volume. With that, he stalked to the other end of the limo, and lay down on the other couch, facing away from both of them.

Gladio looked at Ignis. “Can I hit him now?”

“Do you think you’re helping?”

Gladio raised his eyebrows. “Would it make you feel better?”

“No comment,” Ignis muttered. “Would you mind if I slept?”

“Nah, you look wrecked, and it’s still an hour to Lestallum,” Gladio murmured, taking Ignis’ laptop off of him and sliding it into its case. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve seen him smile in months.”

“Well, we barely see him,” Ignis murmured. “He’s either at school or locked in his bedroom. He hasn’t even asked to go fishing in months.”

Now and then, in the past few years, Noctis would actually seek out Ignis’ company – occasionally, he would ask questions about Ignis’ work, but mostly, he would quietly seek Ignis out and ask if he wanted to do something. Play a videogame, or go for a walk in the city. Ignis had really thought he was finally beginning to accept his position, accept that Ignis only wanted to _help_ him… And then he’d turned fifteen, and all the resentment had shot back, and Ignis was nothing more than some awful monster, out to control his life and stop him from having fun.

It was no coincidence, of course, that his fifteenth birthday had come with a _serious conversation_ between the king and his son about what was to be expected of him in the next few years, that he would be making more public appearances, some of them on his lonesome, that he would need to _improve_.

Ignis wondered, sometimes, if Prince Noctis would try to run away.

He wondered, too, if he would help the prince to do so, if he was asked. Probably.

Such was his flaw.

He moved into Noctis’ empty seat, leaning back against Gladio’s side as he closed his eyes, and Gladio responded by tucking his chin against the top of Ignis’ head for a second, then looked back to his book. Ignis didn’t really sleep, but dozed, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, and when they reached Lestallum, Gladio nudged him gently in the back.

The three of them shared one hotel room – his highness wasn’t trusted with adjoining rooms, since the occasion he had managed to evade his guards and go out fishing alone on one occasion in the south of Duscae – and as Ignis set out his suit for tomorrow morning, Gladio polished his ceremonial shield.

“Noctis,” Ignis said as he saw the prince setting up his laptop.

“What?” Noct snapped at him. “I’m just gonna play for an hour, what is your issue?”

Ignis inhaled, pressing his lips loosely together, focusing on his composure. “I’ve just emailed you the password for the secure wi-fi connection. It should be in your inbox.”

Noctis, to his credit, looked regretful. In fact, for just a moment, his mask of dour expressionless faltered to the extent that Ignis almost thought he was going to cry, but then it passed. “Right,” he said tonelessly. “Sorry.”

“I’m going to fetch us something to eat,” Ignis said to Gladio. “Any special requests?”

“My usual at wherever has the shortest line,” Gladio said, and Ignis looked to Noctis, but he already had his headphones on, and Ignis didn’t much feel like being spat at for the third time today.

When he returned, Gladio stood and excused himself for a few minutes, and Noctis rose from the bed after the door closed behind him like he’d been waiting for it, silently helping Ignis unpack the plates he’d borrowed from the hotel’s dining staff.

“My friend, Prompto,” Noctis said quietly, “it was his first time doing all this tech stuff. His parents couldn’t go because they were working, and he doesn’t really have any other friends.”

“I’m sorry you had to miss the performance,” Ignis said softly. “I know that a lot is expected of you, but unfortunately, your service to the people comes before your service to your friends.”

“I promised him I’d go,” Noctis said in a low voice. “And I said sorry, and he said, um… He said it was no big deal, and he smiled the whole time, but I could tell it was a big deal, because he’s never used to people going to his stuff.”

“He sounds like a very resolute young man,” Ignis said softly, unpacking the takeout containers. “You’re pencilled in to attend the piano recital next month, you know. An evening of classical music from some of the best musicians on the continent, with a small interlude between them for me to play instead.”

Noctis’ lip twitched. “Yeah?” he said.

“Well, it’s not really your scene,” Ignis said quietly. “But perhaps it might be more enjoyable were you to bring a friend along. There’s no reason the two of you couldn’t come along, and then pop out for dinner, with one of the Crownsguard looking out for you.”

“I thought here was security stuff,” Noctis said. “And he’s— You know, he’s a commoner. Won’t the press freak out about it?”

“I could arrange for you to watch from backstage, if you like,” Ignis suggested. “If your friend is interested in that sort of thing…”

“Why are you being so nice to me when I’ve been such a dick?” Noct asked.

“Because I love you very much,” Ignis said, “and I know that your “dickishness”, if we are calling it that, is caused by the pressure of your circumstances as anything else.”

“Your circumstances are hard too,” Noct said.

“I’m glad you see that.”

“Thanks,” Noctis murmured, and Ignis reached out, touching his arm for a moment, not squeezing it, just touching, and then began portioning out their meal.

The evening passed in relative peace, after that.


	2. Chapter 2

Noctis’ new friend was a skinny, athletic young boy with plump cheeks and astoundingly blond hair. His eyes were very blue, which Ignis primarily noticed as a result of how very wide-eyed he was as he met Ignis, taking hold of one of his hands and shaking it with a sort of manic excitement, hopping up and down on his feet.

“You were _amazing_ ,” he gushed, and Ignis felt his eyebrows raise as he glanced at Noct, at the sheepish expression on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. “Everybody was amazing, obviously, this whole thing was really cool, and Noctis said organised it so thanks so much but _wow_ , you can really play piano! I can’t play any instruments, I wish I could, because— _Whoa!”_

“Mr Argentum, I presume?” Ignis asked, and Prompto beamed.

His energy was, in all honesty, somewhat overwhelming, but it was good, Ignis thought, that Noctis should be around someone his own age, and who was so at odds with Noctis’ own nature – he had expected a young man like Noct himself, laconic and prone to bouts of depression. This… This was better.

Albeit punishing on the eardrums.

“You were great, Iggy,” Noctis said quietly. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“It is nothing, I assure you – thank you for coming to see me play. The last performance I should indulge in for some time.”

“What, really?” Prompto asked, his plump lips falling into a dismayed expression. Ignis found himself rather flattered despite himself, and he gave a small bow of his head.

“I haven’t the time to do the music justice any longer. Now, you two are off for dinner, are you not?”

“You’re not joining us?” Noctis asked. Was that disappointment Ignis heard in his voice? By the Six, this really _was_ a night for subtle compliments.

“I’m sorry, your highness – I’m already late for a meeting now, and late this evening, the King’s Council is meeting, of which I am to be a part.”

Noctis looked at him with a dour expression on his face, and for a moment, Ignis had no idea why, until Noctis turned his head away, and muttered under his breath, “ _Your highness_. Fine. See you tomorrow.”

Prompto, apparently sensing the sudden drop in Noctis’ mood, glanced between the two of them, looking horrified, and as Noctis stalked away, Ignis actually heard him say, “Hey, I’m sure he really wishes he could come with us, Noct—”

A strange instinct for a young man, to defend someone he’d only just met to his friend, the prince.

The thought rather caught in Ignis’ mind even as he went to find his car.

* * *

He did not meet Prompto again for some months.

It did seem, however, that he and Prompto were growing closer. Noctis no longer spent all of his time locked in his bedroom: he spent longer at school, and now and then, went to Prompto’s house. Not irregularly, according to the security reports, Prompto joined Noctis on the palace grounds, ordinarily to play games in one of the outbuildings beside the koi pond.

This, Ignis felt, was broadly a good thing.

It wasn’t just that Noctis was no longer holing himself up in his room – he had more energy, ate more, and so long as Prompto was permitted to come along to some of them, he was far more cooperative when it came to public appearances. His mood had improved no end: he smiled more often, and Gladio had actually driven the two of them out to a fishing spot a few weeks back, and Prompto had apparently spent much of the drive back expressing his gratitude.

Prompto was—

 _Grateful_.

That was the primary thing that Ignis had grasped about him, in the past while. Prompto was grateful; he disliked conflict; he loved videogames very much; he took, judging by the number of tagged photographs on Noctis’ social media profiles, a great many photographs. The Crown social media team had been rather struggling to keep on top of them.

But – and there was always a but – Noctis’ newfound cheer had negative effects.

He was trying new things.

Like this.

“Let him go,” Ignis said.

“But if we do that, Mr Scientia, he’ll fall,” said the guard.

“Let him.”

Noctis, loose-limbed, collapsed onto the path, rolling into his side in the grass, and he put his head in his hands as Ignis stared down at him, his arms crossed over his chest. Noctis looked up at him, and then groaned.

“You can go,” Ignis told the guard, and she hesitated, but then jogged back to her post. He’d been missing for only a few hours – he’d sent several selfies back as proof of life when they’d tried to call, of himself with Prompto slightly off screen. It hadn’t even occurred to Ignis that the two of them would be drunk.

Noctis’ cheeks were glowing a bright red, and his eyes were watering, and he kept swaying, unable to stay still.

“What?” he demanded. “You’re not gonna yell at me?”

“No,” Ignis said mildly, raising his hand and waving to Gladiolus as he began to walk down the path toward them. “I’ll yell at you tomorrow morning, when you’re hungover. In the meantime, I would tell you I’m quite disappointed in you.”

“Yeah,” Noctis said, falling onto his back. “Sure. Bet you’re just— You’re just _sooo_ disappointed in me… Because why can’t I just be a fuckin’— _robot_ like you, and just do everything I’m told, and… and be so goddamn _inhuman_. Might as well have a fucking Magitek Unit as my advisor.”

That stung, but Ignis did his best not to show it, turning away from Noct as Gladio leaned to pick him up, slinging the prince over one great shoulder. They were lucky, really, that the senior advisors gave them so much sway over the young prince – Ignis only shuddered to think what one of the senior advisors would do in their position, if they might let the king know immediately.

Ignis had been called out of a meeting with the Crown Service, and he knew that even if no one informed the king this evening, he would be informed in his morning reports, if not the late evening one.

Ignis felt sick.

He’d been in back-to-back meetings the day through, primarily speaking about budgetary adjustments to the Crown Service in the coming years, all of which he was meant to be studying in detail for his upcoming exam on Sunday next. It was a _crucial_ module were he to join the Crownsguard as planned, days before his eighteenth birthday, and there was no module on the exam, he was fairly certain, that involved cleaning up after the crown prince after he snuck out of the palace and got drunk on cheap beer.

Gladio, Ignis knew, had been in one course or drill after another since six o’clock this morning, and Noctis had managed to slip his guards as they’d swapped shifts outside the diner he and Prompto had been in, and off they’d gone.

“This isn’t even fucking irresponsible, you know that?” Gladio was saying, in the tone of one who had been talking for some time, but Ignis hadn’t really been listening. “You say you want everybody to leave you alone, but stunts like this just say you want attention. What are you, some fucking kid?”

“I don’t know,” Noctis slurred into Gladio’s shoulder. “I don’t know what being a kid feels like.”

“You’re so full of shit. My first goddamn world was _shield_ , and Iggy’s first day as your fucking servant was at age six. But sure, give me the saddo prince routine, like it’s the end of the world if someone asks you to do some work for once.”

Noctis looked very green, and he wouldn’t meet Ignis’ gaze as Ignis walked behind them both. He managed not to start vomiting until they were back in his quarters.

“You, uh,” Gladio said, “you normally do stuff like this.”

“This isn’t technically under our remit,” Ignis said against his steepled fingers, staring into the middle distance. It was past two in the morning, and he was so tired, he could cry. “Four different guards were responsible for watching Noctis and Prompto, and they know about the prince’s penchant for escape acts. Both of our schedules were wall-to-wall the day through. And the two of us, Gladiolus, are still going to get a bollocking for the ages from King Regis.”

Gladio crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Ignis, and then he looked at the ajar door of Noctis’ bathroom. His retches didn’t sound particularly princely. “I meant, you know. Hold his hair. Shit like that.”

Ignis was quiet, and when Noct finally came out of the bathroom, leaning heavily on the doorframe, he looked utterly miserable.

“I was so honoured when they chose me to join your service,” Ignis said quietly. “You realise, of course, that I joined your service from another continent entirely – I was beyond honoured, taken away by the opportunity. I was told I would be serving a prince. Noctis, I really don’t know what you want from us.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Noctis said. “Either of you. I just— I want to be able to be like other kids.”

“You—”

“Have you ever considered, Noct,” Ignis said softly, “that Gladio and I might have wanted that too?”

Noctis stared at him. “For me to be like other kids?”

The self-obsession of it hit Ignis like a slap across the face, and he slowly inhaled.

“Oh,” Noctis said. Guilt seemed to drape over him like a cowl, and he clenched his fists, his mouth twisting. “I didn’t— I never _asked_ for you. I never wanted this for you either.” He looked between Gladio and Ignis both, looking utterly trapped.

Ignis ached to see him like this. Noct had never been particularly carefree – even when they’d been much younger, he’d always been uncomfortable with pressure, uncomfortable with attention on him. Ignis and Noctis had always been alike in that way, and Noctis still remembered fondly the days where they would silently fish together for hours on end, and Noct used to say how _glad_ he was that Ignis was there—

How times changed.

Ignis stood to his feet, and his and Gladio’s phones vibrated at the same time: Ignis knew they had received the same message even before he read, in stark text upon the phone screen, _His majesty requests your presence in the throne room tout de suite._

“What?” Noct asked.

“King wants to see us,” Gladio said. “Given that we let his idiot son go get smashed somewhere, where anything could have happened to him.”

“But that’s… But I did that,” Noct said. “Why does he want to yell at you?”

“Still don’t get it, do you?” Gladio asked.

“We’ll speak with you come morning, Noct,” Ignis murmured. “After we’re done serving as your whipping boys, of course.”

Noct threw himself onto the bed, still dressed, and buried his face in the pillow. Gladio slammed the door as they stepped out into the corridor.

*** * ***

“He doesn’t normally shout,” Ignis murmured. He was in Gladio’s bed instead of his own, although when he’d went to fetch his own pyjamas, he brought his own blanket as well – Gladio tended to twist the things all around his body, and one inevitably ended up drawn in and pinned under his weight while sleeping.

Perfectly pleasant, Ignis supposed, for one of Gladio’s parade of sexual partners, but less pleasant for a man who already struggled with stiff joints, even when they weren’t flattened beneath a giant for the evening.

“It was a special occasion,” Gladio said, dropping down onto the bed beside him, and passing him another beer. It was one of Gladio’s favourites, a whiskey-aged beer with a surprisingly high ABV, but despite typically preferring wine when he _did_ drink, Ignis found it to be quite palatable. 

Ignis had been drunk before, of course.

When he and Gladio had turned sixteen, they’d spent their Saturday evenings, over the course of a few months, sitting down with Cor and one of the officers in the Crownsguard, getting as drunk as they could. It was crucial that they were resistant to any spikes of alcohol hitting them suddenly, and that they – and the Crownsguard – were completely aware of their own limitations as far as alcohol consumption went. They each had to keep on top of it, of course – their ability to withstand a strong drink would only improve as they got older, their tolerance strengthening, but…

In retrospect, Ignis supposed, taking a sip from the bottle, it might have been nice, to have what Noctis had had. To go drinking with a good friend, to become quite insensible, to enjoy drinking for the first time, and not have to make notes or perform a dexterity assessment after every unit of alcohol consumed.

“You didn’t help,” Gladio said.

“Didn’t I?”

“By talking back to the fucking king? No.”

Ignis brought the lip of the bottle to his mouth, taking down a few swallows, and Gladio raised his eyebrows at him, but Ignis didn’t comment on it. His glasses were already set aside, and although Gladio was in perfect focus, the room would be blurry, if not for the fact that the lights were already dimmed.

After the shouting had come the commandments, one of which had been that if this boy was so bad an influence on Noctis, they oughtn’t be allowed to further interact, that he wanted him banned from the palace grounds.

“Your majesty,” Ignis had said, forcing himself to raise his chin and look at the king seriously, even as Gladio stared at him aghast, “as an advisor to the Crown, even in training, I must counsel against it. Prompto Argentum is the only young man his highness’ age who he has truly connected with, and in recent months, surely, your majesty must have noted the marked improvement in Prince Noctis’ mood, in his engagement with his duties. To force a severance of his ties with his only friend now would be to drive a further wedge between him and his crown.”

Regis had looked at him with _rage_ , and more shouting had come – but he had rescinded his ban on young Prompto.

“He doesn’t have any other friends, Gladio,” Ignis said softly. “And so often, as of recent, he seems to… hate and resent us both. But for his correspondence with Lady Lunafreya, I expect he felt he had no one at all, before Mr Argentum.”

“Only ‘cause he doesn’t make any effort. The kid is _weird_. He’s just, you know… _quiet_.”

“He doesn’t like attention,” Ignis said softly. “That’s all it is – scrutiny discomforts him. He just… He only wants peace, Gladio.”

“I’m not dissing you for being like that,” Gladio said, ever perceptive, and Ignis was quiet, staring down at his own silk clad knees. “Just— He _can’t_ be like that. He’s gonna be king, Iggy.”

“I know,” Ignis whispered. “Do you think he’ll always be like this?”

“A little bitch?”

“Unhappy.”

For a moment, Gladio’s hard mask cracked. Ignis saw the pain in his eyes as he shifted his jaw, but after he had taken a sip of his bed, Gladio’s gaze was hard once more. “It’s not about being happy,” he rumbled. “It’s not about any of us being happy. You know that.”

Ignis put his beer aside, and lay down in the bed beside him. “I do,” he agreed, and the two of them settled in the silence.

*** * ***

Noctis shared other firsts with Prompto.

Prompto was quite invested in what seemed like every fast food restaurant in the bounds of Insomnia; he introduced all manner of candies, chips, and abhorrently saccharine sodas; they played new videogames together; Noctis begged, for Prompto’s birthday, for Gladio to bring them Go-Karting.

“He never asks for anything on his birthday,” Ignis said softly, as he watched the two of them race around the track, heard the ear shattering volume of Prompto’s excited yells. “Have you ever noticed that?”

“We know what he wants,” Gladio muttered. “Just can’t give it to him.”

Noctis—

It felt unfair to say he _improved_. But he did seem happier. Still pinned by duty, still frustrated, but he did attend with some more interest, and as his combat lessons became more complex, more detailed, he became more invested in them, too.

It was a few weeks after Noctis’ sixteenth birthday when Ignis ducked his head into the little cabin beside the koi pond, checking that Noctis and Prompto were awake, to encourage them to actually eat something other than junk food before he went off to the last of his Crownsguard exams. They were awake.

Prompto was sitting back on the couch, Noctis kneeling between his legs with his hands braced on Prompto’s knees, and the two of them were kissing. It was a strange, stunted thing: Prompto seemed eager, but uncertain, and Noctis was slow, the both of them tilting their mouths oddly.

Ignis cleared his throat, and they broke apart: Prompto yelped like a kicked chocobo and threw himself over the side of the couch, and Noctis stared up at Ignis, horrified.

“Just wanted to remind you to eat something,” Ignis said, feeling as though the inside of his head had been emptied out like a bucket.

Was Noctis gay? Perhaps. He’d never really considered it much – he was engaged to Lady Lunafreya, that much was true, and he would have to marry her, _had_ to, and had never before voiced that he was dissatisfied with that, even as he voiced that he was dissatisfied with everything else in the world, but—

But it really wasn’t Ignis’ business, either.

“So sorry to intrude,” Ignis said, and as he slipped out, Noctis ran after him, rushing to keep pace with him as Ignis began to walk. “Noct, you really needn’t—”

“Don’t, don’t— don’t tell my dad,” Noctis said breathlessly. “Please, Ignis, Ignis, you can’t—”

“I won’t,” Ignis said. “I’m sure that— whatever the, hm, precise nature between yourself and young Prompt, I really mustn’t—”

“We’re friends!” Noctis said sharply, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide. “We were just— I didn’t know, I said I didn’t know, what… what it was like, to kiss a girl, and I said that I was already, already engaged, so I really didn’t know if I’d ever— until I was actually married, and then Prompto, Prompto never… Either, and I just— I just wanted to know what it _felt_ like.”

He reached out, grabbing hold of the front of Ignis’ waistcoat to hold him still, and Ignis lingered, looking down at the pain on Noctis’ face, the embarrassment.

“I know, I know that it would be—” He closed his eyes tightly, and then said, more softly – already this conversation had been carried out in a harsh whisper – “I know it would look bad for me, and Luna, if… If it turned out I’d kissed some girl at school, or if I’d been dating, or anything like that. I just wanted… I just wanted to know what it felt like. We both did. He won’t spread it around, Ignis, I swear, I wouldn’t… I know I have to think about my reputation. How it looks. I know it’s part of my duty.”

Ignis hadn’t really interacted with Prompto directly since the occasion at the theatre. He’d seen the evidence of his presence, of course, whether through Noctis’ smiles or the crumbs on his shirt, but today had been the closest he’d actually been to the young man in months.

But Noct—

Trusted him.

It was sweet, in its way.

“You know, Noct,” Ignis said quietly, “if you do find that you are… that you are inclined to men, I—”

“I’m not inclined to _men_ ,” Noctis said, wrinkling his nose and looking at Ignis as though he were mad. “Just— You know, Prompto, he would… Well, I mean, I’m not saying he looks like a girl, but you know, if you close your eyes, you can…” Ignis felt his eyebrows raise, and watched the blush on Noctis’ cheeks darken furiously. “I’m not gay,” he added, calmly, not defensively. “I want— I want to marry Luna.”

“Alright,” Ignis murmured. “Well, so long as you can keep your, ah, experimentation between yourselves…”

Noctis nodded, and then, seemingly impulsively, threw his arms around Ignis in a hug.

Ignis hugged him back despite his surprise, giving the prince a squeeze, and Noctis mumbled, “I just… I’m trying. I am.”

“I know,” Ignis murmured. “And I— I really am sorry, Noct, but my exam—”

“Sure, go on, Specs,” Noctis said, pulling away. “We’ll eat something, I promise.”

“Something with _substance_ , please.”

“Yessir,” Noctis said, with a mock salute, and they parted ways.

He managed, for the duration of his assessment, not to think about it, and then, it was _all_ he could think about.

His own first kiss had been under similarly controlled conditions, between him and a female member of the Crownsguard – and then, with a _male_ member of the Crownsguard. Part of their training, once formally inducted into the service, would be to strengthen themselves against potential honeypots – every sexual encounter he’d had himself thus far, he’d made notes on afterward, keeping track of his own preferences, his own weaknesses.

One didn’t speak much about it, but it was in the manuals. It wasn’t polite to discuss, and it certainly wasn’t _normal_ , but it was…

Expected.

Necessary.

And for Noctis, of course, the stakes were even higher: he had an engagement to consider, one crucial from a political perspective, not to mention the way the gutter press would respond were the prince to be caught in flagrante with someone in his high school class, but…

But, but, but.

“Um, excuse— excuse me,” said a voice behind him, and he turned away from his desk, looking at the figure of Prompto in the doorway. “I just— Um, I wanted… Can I… Can I talk…?”

“Of course,” Ignis said, stepping to his feet. “Gladio took Noctis for his training, I suppose?”

“Uh, yeah,” Prompto said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, he said about maybe, uh, teaching— teaching me? About… He said maybe he could teach me some stuff, with weapons. Not today, but another day.”

“That’s good,” Ignis said, leading Prompto down the corridor. He lacked his usual confidence, it seemed, but when Ignis led Prompto into his own apartment, closing the door, Prompto did seem to relax somewhat, and took a seat at Ignis’ table when Ignis moved to wash his hands. “You want to discuss what I walked in on today, I presume?”

“Noct said you wouldn’t tell anybody,” Prompto said. “And that, um, and that we wouldn’t get in trouble. He isn’t, um… He doesn’t like guys, you know.”

“He told me as much,” Ignis said.

“And I, um, I don’t, uh… You know, he’s real good looking and all, I guess, but he’s not— But I’m not trying to…”

He’d never heard Prompto so nervous, so unable to finish his sentences.

“You like men,” Ignis said softly, “but not Prince Noctis.”

Prompto’s gulp was audible. “I like girls,” he said. “Too. Can I— Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“You’re, um— You’re gay, right?”

Ignis turned his head, looking at Prompto, who was trembling in his seat. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” he blurted out. “Just that, you know, um, you know, Noct said that you, that you were, and then I read in this gossip column online that you, um, that you’d been on a date with this councillor in Lestallum—”

Ignis huffed out a low, embarrassed laugh. “That was not a _date_ ,” he muttered. “It was a business meeting over dinner. The gossip rags were just rather desperate for something to say about me, now that I’m eighteen, and can be gossiped about.”

“Oh,” said Prompto.

“To answer your question, yes. I prefer the company of men.”

“And is that, I mean, obviously, it’s, it’s not, but is that… Can you still join the— the Crownsguard, if you’re…?”

Ignis turned to look at Prompto’s nervous expression, at the twist in his mouth, the uncertainty that showed in his face. Understanding dawned, and Ignis looked at him with a gentler expression as he said, “It is of no consequence whatsoever. You think you might like to join the Crownsguard, Mr Argentum?”

“I want to protect Noct,” Prompto said. “If it— if anything happened, I’d want to be able to help.”

Ignis smiled slightly, and gave a slight inclination of his head. “A noble ambition,” he murmured. “I’m going to cook myself something for my evening meal – why don’t you join me?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Prompto said eagerly, much of the tension eking out of his shoulders. “Do you, um, do you need help? Can I, uh, like, chop anything, or, or do… anything?”

“Of course,” Ignis said, “if you are to learn to wield a dagger, we might start with a knife. Come here.”

Prompto rushed around the island, and as he stood at the chopping board, copying Ignis as precisely as he could, Ignis felt somewhat at peace.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a pleasant enough evening, tutoring Prompto in some basic cooking skills. He didn’t say much, but to ask a good many questions about what Ignis liked to cook, what ingredients he liked to use, why he had to use this knife or that knife, what the difference was between the various pans, pots, and woks.

He was excitable, engaged, interested.

Noct, on the rare – but not so rare as they had been once – occasions he joined Ignis in his kitchen, would often do small actions, might stir a pot or grate some cheese, but mostly, he was most active when complaining about eating vegetables.

Prompto—

He was standing at Ignis’ fridge, the door pulled open, and staring with fascination at its contents. Ignis kept his fridge meticulously ordered – Gladio, like many of the Crownsguard, only had a small fridge for a few bits and pieces, but Ignis’ was full-sized, that he might take his cooking classes in his own apartment.

“You’re letting the cold air out,” Ignis said gently, and Prompto looked at him, his lips parting, his wide eyes _so_ very wide.

“It’s just— I never even knew you could have all this stuff at once. How do you keep track of how to cook it all? I don’t even know the names of most of these.”

Prompto Argentum had been an orphan, and his foster parents worked full time in a factory on the outskirts of the city. They worked very long hours, Ignis was aware, and Prompto himself was not extremely poor, but like many children of parents who had to work very hard to cover their expenses, he didn’t – from what the Crownsguard reports had said – get much time with them.

It was part of why he was always available to spend time with the prince – and, Ignis supposed, why cooking a home meal seemed so spectacular an idea to him.

“I, uh, I make a lot of my own salads at home,” Prompto said, “but I, um, I kinda… I kinda just stick with the stuff I know. What’s this?”

“Aegir root,” Ignis answered. “The texture is like that of a carrot, but the taste is saltier, earthier. Some vegetarians use it as a meat substitute.”

“And this? I’ve never seen blue garlic before.”

“It’s an allural shallot. It’s very pungent, and the odour is very strong, but the taste can be milder.”

“What about that?”

Strange, that it should pass such time to stand before the fridge, naming vegetables – it wasn’t as though they were all unfamiliar, of course, but the more exotic or rarer ingredients seemed to fascinate Prompto, and for a moment, Ignis thought about the similarity of their positions, each of them orphans – and here, Ignis lived in relative luxury, ever attended to by tutors if not by parents, and Prompto…

“Oh, Noct is texting me,” Prompto said as they were drying dishes, setting them aside on the rack. “Thanks so much for the food, Ignis, and the lesson, too – do you know everything?”

“I know as much as I am able,” Ignis said, and Prompto laughed, throwing back his head to do so, even as he stumbled back toward the door. He moved at speed, all but sprinting, and perhaps Ignis would be upset he were so desperate to leave Ignis’ presence, if he didn’t know that Prompto moved like that all the time.

He didn’t speak to Prompto properly, then, for years.

It was not on purpose.

Their paths just didn’t cross.

* * *

“Camping trip,” Gladio said, by way of morning greeting. “Saturday, Sunday, come back Monday.”

“I have—”

“Cleared your meetings,” Gladio said.

“And I have—“

“Took the embassy chick on a date. Got you an extension on that report.”

Ignis crossed his arms over his chest, turning to look at Gladio critically. He did not let himself smile as widely as he might like to, unwilling to give the other man the satisfaction, but he did allow a small curve of his lips as Gladio grinned.

“And my physical therapy appointment?” he prompted.

Gladio stared at him for a moment, opened his mouth, closed it. “I can do that,” he said, and Ignis laughed.

“I’ll reschedule it for later in the week,” Ignis murmured. “Will Iris be joining us?”

“No, just me, you, Noct, and Prompto.”

“Ah,” Ignis said quietly. “Thank you, Gladio. For going to such effort to include me.”

“It wouldn’t be the safe without you,” Gladio murmured.

Camping.

Ignis liked it more than he might admit, and that Saturday morning, he carefully packed their camping equipment into the back of the car, looking up as Prompto and Noctis came down into the car park. Noctis was as dead-eyed and exhausted as he looked with every early morning, although it was only eight o’clock, and Prompto looked as full of boundless energy as a puppy, bouncing on his heels and revolving around Noctis, snapping photos and laughing at jokes Ignis couldn’t hear at this distance.

At twenty years old, Noctis had mellowed somewhat. He was calmer, more collected, and more able to deal with his emotions when they did arise – although Ignis really wasn’t certain as to whether he had improved at addressing them, or repressing them. Well, that wasn’t true – he knew very well which one of the two it was.

But Noctis did smile more.

He spent more time with Ignis and Gladio both: he trained at length with Gladio, played videogames with him and encouraged Gladio to join him and Prompto on the occasional jaunt, simply because he preferred Gladio to another member of the Crownsguard.

Ignis was ordinarily busier, but he did make time for Noctis: he’d helped him work through the last of his exams, assisting him to study in the modules that Prompto didn’t take himself, and Noctis came and ate with Ignis a few times a week, as a rule, complimented Ignis’ cooking.

Not irregularly, Noctis would appear in Gladio or Ignis’ rooms, and play games on his phone or his laptop while they went about their days, pursued their own work. It was not unlike, Ignis supposed, the social interaction one might have with a cat: Noctis didn’t necessarily demand conversation, merely companionship.

And for all he hadn’t really spoken to Prompto, he had _seen_ him – he often saw Prompto rushing past in the corridors, saw him playing games with Noct or hanging about in Noct’s vicinity, occasionally drove Prompto and Noct to or from somewhere, but with the two of them in the back and Ignis in the front, they didn’t much talk.

He had grown taller.

He and Noctis both had, really – they weren’t as tall as Ignis, and they were far off from reaching Gladio’s height, but they were somewhat taller. Average height – and what with Prompto’s more athletic frame, as opposed to Noctis’ atrociously skinny one, Noctis often ended up looking quite small beside his friend.

At twenty years old, Prompto had grown into his features some: his eyes still seemed unusually wide, but not painfully so; his cheeks were still rounded, plump, but his chin was more square, his jaw more defined.

Ignis knew, through the social media reports (he didn’t have any social media accounts himself, and refused to set any up), and through idle conversation from Noctis or from Gladio, that Prompto had a great deal of interest in photography, was devoted to using his camera, taking selfies, and so on and so forth; he was heavily interested, too, in technology, whether it was in using guns or mechanical weapons, or whether it was computers, consoles, and all the rest.

“Oh, hey, hey!” Prompto said brightly, looking to Gladio and Ignis. “Thanks for letting me come with! I didn’t know you camped, Ignis.”

“I rarely have the time,” Ignis murmured. “Gladio made it for me.”

“Cool,” Prompto said, and as Noctis slunk forward, sliding into the car and immediately dropping his head against his bundled sweatshirt on the window, his eyes closing, Prompto leaned close to Ignis to look past him at the contents of the car’s trunk, his lips parting, searching.

“May I help you, Prompto?” Ignis murmured, his voice almost directly in Prompto’s ear as a result of how close Prompto had leaned to him, and Prompto jolted, surprised – he’d been so focused he hadn’t even noticed his proximity, it seemed.

“Oh, uh, I was just, um, looking,” Prompto said, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning sheepishly as he stumbled back and away from Ignis. “If you’re coming, you’re gonna cook, right?”

“I thought it might be preferable to starving,” Ignis said, amused, and Prompto laughed, shifting on his feet.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, but I just, uh, I was just wondering, what exactly…”

“It depends,” Gladio said at Prompto’s shoulder, and Prompto looked up at him, his eyes wide. “Specs here will forage for mushrooms, maybe anything else in the area; Noct’ll fish. We’ll eat what we find.”

Prompto looked at Ignis with wonder writ on his features. “ _Really_? How do you know which ones aren’t poison?”

“We’ll get you to taste-test,” Gladio said, and Prompto faltered, looking concerned, before Ignis said, “I have studied extensively in this area, I assure you.”

“Right!” Prompto said, and grabbed for the passenger door, but Gladio caught him by the back of his shirt.

“Uh uh, pretty boy,” Gladio said. “You’re up front with Iggy. Daddy needs leg room.”

“ _Gross_ ,” Prompto said emphatically, wrinkling his nose, but he laughed when Gladio gently shoved him in the back of the head, and he rushed around the side of the car, sliding into the front passenger seat.

Ignis pulled the trunk closed, and he slid into the driver’s seat. Noctis was fast asleep, his body loose and relaxed, and Gladio had thrown his jacket over Noctis’ body, and Gladio had put his headphones in, and was sending off a quick email with their schedule to the Crownsguard, confirming they’d set off.

Prompto’s knees were bouncing, his hands in his lap, and as they drove out of the city and took to the road, Prompto, to Ignis’ surprise, remained quiet. He didn’t stop moving, of course: he constantly fidgeted, kept glancing at Ignis before looking away as though he were frightened to make eye contact.

“Are you excited?” Ignis asked.

“What? No,” Prompto said defensively.

Ignis raised his eyebrows. “Alright.”

“Wait,” Prompto said, leaning over the side of the seat, “wait, no, I didn’t, um— Yeah, I am excited, I think, I like camping, I like spending time with, uh, with you guys, it’s— Well, I never really spend time with… You know, Noct is cool, and camping is really cool, I never went before Noct invited me the first time, and I think it’s amazing that he can just catch fish and that you know ingredients and stuff, it’s all… It’s all really amazing.”

“Forgive me for saying so,” Ignis said softly, “but you seem somewhat nervous.”

“I don’t want you to yell at me,” Prompto said.

“Yell at you?”

“’Cause I’m— You know, I know I’m really, really loud, and I’m annoying, and I shouldn’t distract you while you’re driving.” Prompto bit his lip, glancing at Noct in the mirror, and then, he put his own headphones in, and looked pointedly out of the window.

Ignis opened his mouth, closed it, and concentrated it on the road.

Whatever this was, it was a matter for when he wasn’t behind the wheel.

**Author's Note:**

> My original work is [over here](http://johannesevans.tumblr.com/), and you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/johannesevans). 
> 
> Please remember to comment!


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